Last Saturday was the year anniversary of the storming of the anarchist house. We were warned that there were going to be major riots, complete with molotov cocktails, ripping up pavements and burning cars everywhere.
As these usually end up happening outside the window of my apartment, and, as I was moving the next day, we decided to do what any self-respecting people would do in a similar situation. Throw a riot watching party, of course.
T-shirts and logos were designed. Signature drinks created and food laid in against a possible forced overnighter. With the theme being rum riot and Ben, my art director partner, chipping in a top-of-the-line rum left over from his stint at an agency in Puerto Rico, we were as prepared as we could be.
Dinner was lovely, the variation on mojitos were tasty and the company was excellent. In the end, there was only one catch. No riots. Not even the normal Saturday night drunks randomly singing in the street. (My guess was this was due the particularly nasty gale-force winds that night.)
In fact, the closest thing to a ruckus was when a few of the guys took a bunch of broken up door frames left for the rubbish collectors and broke them up to feed the fireplace. The one time I was actually looking forward to the anarchists coming through and they completely failed to show. Ah well.
In other news, I have now moved into the new place. Sadly, everything I own is still haphazardly strewn about due to a rather crazy work schedule last week, but I've already gotten used to the blissful quiet. No demonstrators or drunks here on the unfashionable side of Norrebro.
I'm off to Norway skiing this weekend. L.A. already seems a lifetime ago. So many missed stories, but work has been hogging all my words lately and there's been precious little time for much else. Hopefully that is changing now, and I'll be able to resume my aimless rambling for those of you that actually enjoy that sort of thing.